The Flood
by paperbkryter
Summary: Clark vs. Mother Nature


Disclaimer: I own no rights to the characters found within the body of this story, and am not using them for profitable gain.   
  
  
FLOOD  
  
  
It was raining in Smallville.  
  
Jonathan Kent stood on the front porch looking out into the paddock where his cows stood knee deep in muddy water. He'd brought them up from the south pasture a few days earlier after it became apparent they would no longer be safe from the rising waters, and now even this close to the house they were threatened. It was one of the best herds Jonathan had ever raised; beautiful tawny brown Guernsey cows who gave some of the richest milk in the county. They had given the Kent's flagging dairy business a boost, and some unexpected profits from the sweet butter Martha had learned to make herself. If it continued to rain, and it showed no signs of stopping, the flood waters would drown the whole lot of them.   
  
They'd already lost all the chickens, save for one canny rooster who'd invaded Clark's loft and now refused to be removed from it. Half of the sheep had drowned until Clark, waking from an uneasy sleep during a late night storm, realized their danger and brought all that remained into the front yard. The only animal on the farm not in danger of drowning, besides the ducks, was Martha's irritable old gelding who had been packed up with Nell Potter's horses and hauled off to a Metropolis boarding stable before the roads became impassable. Lana promised to take good care of Decca, and favored Clark with a quick peck on the cheek as a goodbye.   
  
"I'll bet you he kicks someone within twenty four hours. " Clark commented afterward as he and Jonathan watched the big horse trailer ease down the road with its equine burden.   
  
Jonathan had laughed, and gave the old boy twelve.   
  
He sighed now as the rain began to fall harder. At least he'd been able to save Martha's horse. He was very much afraid he would not be able to save her house and was glad she'd chosen this week to visit her mother in Metropolis. The loss of her chicks would have been hard on her, not to mention the threat the rising waters made to her home. Jonathan was also quite glad the phone lines were all down and that Martha had their cell phone with her. He did not want to have to tell her what was happening over the phone.   
  
He didn't want to tell her at all.   
  
The sound of splashing caught Jonathan's attention and drew it towards the big barn where the doors were slowly swinging open. Water surged around the doors and into the barn, creating waves in the water already within. The cows could not be milked, but they could still be fed from their troughs and given some respite from the rain. They lowed, a sad droning sound beneath the pattering of the rain, as they began shuffling through the deeper water leading towards the barn. Clark, standing at the doors, guided them inside and shut the barn behind them. After a while he appeared out the side door to make his way through the water towards the house.  
  
As Clark grew nearer, Jonathan could see he had something tucked into his shirt in an effort to protect it from the downpour. Clark's shirt offered little protection, for like the rest of him it was completely soaked through, but he made the attempt at shelter nonetheless. As he clomped up onto the porch he reached inside his shirt and withdrew both of the barn cats, one in each hand, and set them down upon the porch. The disgruntled cats were also water logged, and set about drying themselves immediately.   
  
Clark grinned. "Well. They were happy to see me anyway." he said, watching the cats rub their faces with their paws in their efforts to get dry. The grin faded as he sighed. "The cows need milked."  
  
Jonathan nodded, rubbing his face with his hands. "I know."  
  
"Can we bring them into the yard, one by one?" Clark gazed at the yard, and Jonathan saw by his expression he knew it would be futile.   
  
The yard, what little was left of it behind the row of sand-bags they had placed around the house, was filled with the sheep and various odds and ends of equipment they were trying to save; including the truck and Martha's car. There was not enough room for even one cow, and to bring them in one at a time and milk them by hand would be a wasted effort from the start. They both knew it.   
  
Jonathan caught Clark's eye. He did not have to say a word.  
  
Clark's shoulders slumped, and Jonathan had nothing to say to console him.   
  
*********************  
  
Martha was more aware of the situation at home than Jonathan realized. It was also raining in Metropolis, where she had gone to visit her mother. The city did not have to endure the severe weather and flooding of her surrounding towns but Martha Kent had lived in Smallville long enough to know what the combination of heavy rain and spring thaw could do, and she fretted to go home to help her family. Despite the many road closures, she would have risked attempting to get home, but her parents would not allow it. It was too dangerous they insisted, and Martha had temporarily conceded. Instead she threw her efforts into getting through to someone at home who could tell her what was happening, and after several hours on the telephone, she managed to reach Chloe Sullivan's cell.   
  
The news was not good.  
  
Chloe reported that Smallville was under water. Downtown resembled Venice Italy without the attraction of pretty bridges and chortling gondoliers, and the flash flooding that occurred whenever the river surged, had already claimed the lives of several people. Chloe and her family were relatively safe in the housing development near the fertilizer plant north of town. It was one of the highest points, and it looked down over the Potter house and the sprawling acreage of the Kent farm below it. Residents had been tracking the progress of the flood waters as they crept closer and closer and thus Chloe knew exactly what was going on at Martha's home, although she was reluctant to say.   
  
"How bad is it Chloe? " Martha asked softly.  
  
The other end of the phone was silent for a moment, and then Chloe's voice resumed. "Nell's barn is sitting in three feet of water."   
  
"Oh God." Knees buckling, Martha sat down heavily in her father's armchair. Her voice, when she found it again, was a hoarse croak. "My house?"  
  
"Mrs. Kent I'm sorry...."  
  
"My house, Chloe!"  
  
Another long pause.   
  
"All we can see is the roof."   
  
************************  
  
It continued to rain in Smallville.   
  
The water started to trickle over the sand bag barrier around the Kent's front yard and Clark put in a twenty four hour shift of filling and stacking more until Jonathan made him stop. Jonathan had been keeping an eye on Clark since the flooding began, knowing full well his son would throw himself into keeping the water at bay with everything he had in him. Until the hour the Kent farm itself had become threatened, Clark was all over town and the neighboring farms doing what he could to help his friends and the community in general. He'd been getting less and less sleep a night as the week went by, and Jonathan could see that it was beginning to take its toll. Clark's stamina was as amazing as his strength and his speed, but it was not endless and he was still only a teenaged boy.  
  
Power was out all over the county, the propane tank was under water, and thus Jonathan called Clark in to a supper of cold, canned pasta by candlelight. The minute he saw Clark he knew it was time to give up. The boy was completely soaked to the bone, and had been for days, with a face nearly as pale as the shirt he wore. His eyes were ringed by dark circles of fatigue above bones cut out in sharp relief over sunken cheeks, and he sank wearily into a chair as if his legs could no longer support him. He'd fought a valiant battle, but against mother nature he seemed to have met his match.   
  
"Its coming over," he said quietly. "We should think about leaving."  
  
"I've been getting ready. We'll go after you get some rest." Jonathan sighed, and poked half heartedly at his plate. He noticed Clark was not eating and the worry must have shown on his face.   
  
Clark picked up his spoon. "I'm fine."  
  
"You are not fine Clark." The tone was stern, and so was the expression. "You're exhausted. How long do you think you can keep going like this?"  
  
"Indefinitely"  
  
Jonathan shook his head, gave a little laugh that held very little humor. "You are more stubborn than your mother."  
  
"She says I'm more stubborn than you." Clark returned, and began slowly to eat.  
  
"I think you're more stubborn than both of us combined." Jonathan reached over and dumped his plate into Clark's. "Eat that. You need it more than I do. I'm going to go upstairs and get the suitcases and pack a box with your mother's keepsakes. That plate better be empty when I get back and you'd better be ready to take a nap."  
  
"I'm having flashbacks of preschool-school."  
  
This time Jonathan laughed in earnest. "I'll bring down some dry clothes."  
  
The sigh was heartbreaking. "I'm beginning to get used to being wet."  
  
"You'll get pneumonia and then what will I tell your mother." Jonathan started up the stairs, but paused to toss Clark a towel that was hanging over the stair rail.   
  
"I won't get pneumonia!" Clark called after him. "And I'm not tired!"  
  
Jonathan ignored him, and continued upstairs. Both he and Clark had suitcases of clothes ready, and Jonathan had started packing a box of things irreplaceable: photographs, important papers, and the sealed plastic box containing Martha's wedding dress. She would never forgive him if he left it behind. He finished packing the photos and documents, and added Martha's jewelry case with the few pieces she'd inherited from her grandmother, and the plaster hand print Clark had made them in kindergarten. Then with a suitcase in each hand and the box under his arm, Jonathan gingerly made his way back down the stairs.   
  
He stopped at the bottom, and sighed.   
  
Clark had not finished eating.   
  
Clark had fallen asleep at the table.   
  
********************  
  
Martha paced back and forth in the kitchen as her mother made them both tea. Twenty four hours had passed since she'd talked to Chloe and she was frantic to get home.   
  
"Martha, sit down."  
  
"Mom I can't," She continued to pace, and wrung her hands when she discovered them shaking. "My house is under water and I have no idea where my family has gone. Mom I can't stay here. I have to be home. They need me."  
  
Susan Clark regarded her daughter with the green eyes she'd passed on to her, and handed her a cup of hot lemon tea. "Yes," she said quietly. "They need you Martha. They need you to stay safe, not to go rushing out into God knows what kind of danger trying to get there. You have to stay safe, because when its all over and done with they are going to need your strength." She looked down at her teacup, toying with the tea-bag. "I have no practical experience in farm living Marty, nor have I survived a flood, but I know its going to be hard road ahead."  
  
Martha hung her head, and slumped onto a stool. "We've lost everything. Years of work..."  
  
"You have insurance, surely?" Susan looked up sharply. "Marty, you do have insurance?"  
  
"Yes." Her voice was soft. "But it won't cover everything. I don't know what we'll do. We have everything invested in the farm."  
  
"You know your father is more than willing to help Martha, all you have to do is ask."   
  
"I can't do that mom. Jonathan would never dream of it. Its bad enough I've kept Clark's college fund hidden from him."  
  
Susan bristled. "Jonathan Kent is a stubborn fool, and if your father wants to put his grandson through college that is his prerogative." She stopped abruptly and sighed, softening as she took a sip of her tea. "But that's ancient history I suppose. I am disappointed you did not bring Clark with you. That would have been the best birthday present."  
  
Smiling, Martha reached out to give her mother's hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry mom. We couldn't spare him with the spring planting due." She winced. "Or so we thought."   
  
"I wouldn't recognize him."  
  
Martha made a wry face. No, she thought, reflecting on how much Clark had changed in the year since Susan had last seen him, you probably wouldn't.   
  
"I need to be home." she whispered, thinking of "her boys" and what they must be going through. "Jonathan means everything to me mom. He's my husband, but he's also my friend and my business partner. The farm is our lives, and Clark's future, and I have to be there with them. Its not right that I'm not."  
  
"I know honey, but its so dangerous....  
  
"I know mom." Martha put her head in her hands. "I know."  
  
There was a soft sound at the kitchen door, and Susan's housekeeper opened it. Both women turned towards her.   
  
"Yes Sophie, what is it?" Susan asked.  
  
"Pardon me Mrs. Clark, but there is a young man here asking after Miss Martha." Sophie's blue eyes were large in her heart shaped face. "He says its urgent."  
  
"Clark?" Martha started for the door, but stopped as the young man in question eased himself past Sophie and into the kitchen. "Lex!"  
  
He held up a set of car keys. "I brought the Land Rover. I'm here to take you home."  
  
*******************  
  
It rained in Jonathan's dreams.   
  
After finding Clark asleep at the kitchen table he had settled down on the couch, telling himself he would simply rest his eyes before taking the suitcases out to the truck. He did not recall lying down, nor did he recall falling asleep, but later he would recall the dreams. The rain never ceased, and in his dreams Jonathan was forever battling the ever rising dark water and swirling whirlpools that clutched at his body and drew him under the suffocating waves. He did not wake at the first call, perhaps mistaking it for his own shouting within the dream, but when a hand shook him, he woke with a cry of alarm.  
  
"Dad!" Clark's voice was frantic in the pitch darkness of the house. "Get up. We have to go."  
  
"What?" Jonathan's mind, still foggy with sleep, failed to understand the words. He heard the sound of water rushing, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he became aware that the house was filled with it. It poured in through the doors and was quickly filling the living room. Clark's boots were already covered. "No!"  
  
"Yes! The levy must have broken. Its rising fast. We have to go now!" With a fist full of Jonathan's shirt, Clark hauled him off the couch. "Come on!"  
  
"The suitcases...."  
  
"In the truck."   
  
They fought the incoming current to get out the door, for the water already surged over the porch. In the darkness of the yard they could hear the panicked bleating of the sheep as the animals were forced to swim through ever deepening waters. The water was already boiling over the hood of Martha's car, and crept rapidly up the tires of the truck as Jonathan climbed inside and started the engine. The lights lit up the yard and he saw what danger they faced as wave after wave of dark water and debris washed towards the house with ever increasing speed. He turned to the passenger side and found it empty.  
  
"Clark!"  
  
He appeared at the driver's side window. "Dad...."  
  
"We aren't going to get far." The engine started to sputter as water rose into the engine block.  
  
"Just put it in neutral, steer, and hang on."   
  
"What?" Jonathan turned as Clark vanished again. He threw the gear level into neutral when the engine coughed and died, then craned his neck to look out the back window as he felt the truck lurch forward.   
  
Clark had both hands on the tailgate, and was pushing the truck through the water. He looked up to see Jonathan looking out. "Nell's!" He shouted, over the roar of the water and the crack of lightening. "We'll cut through the field."  
  
"We'll bog down! The fence...."  
  
"Just steer!" Clark gritted his teeth as he was hit by some dark object driven by the rushing water, but he continued to put his weight into the back of the truck. It began to move steadily forward across the yard, bumping over the remains of the sandbag barrier and into the pouring rain.  
  
Jonathan turned on the windshield wipers, grasped the wheel with both hands, and steered. The water was over the headlights and only a faint brackish glow illuminated the way ahead, but the way ahead held nothing but swirling water and debris. Jonathan could hear things striking the truck as it moved through the current, and once a struggling ewe crashed into the front fender. He could only guess which way to go, and turned the wheel with all his strength to keep the truck going in what he hoped was the proper direction. Nell's was on higher ground, and would be somewhat safer for the night, if they could get over the water soaked fields and through the fences.   
  
The trucks momentum gradually increased, the speedometer creeping up towards fifteen miles per hour, and Jonathan spared a glance behind him. The water was up to Clark's chest as he bent his head over his task, and once as Jonathan watched, a wave splashed up over his head. It only served to heighten the urgency of the task, for Clark dug in and pushed, bringing the truck up to a steady 30 MPH as it bounced into the field through a fence already broken by flood waters. Jonathan turned back around, and in the distance he saw the dark square of Nell's barn. His heart lightened, but only momentarily, for suddenly the truck stopped moving.  
  
Clark had slipped. He went down into the swirling water, vanishing for what seemed to Jonathan an eternity, before grabbing the tail gate and coming up gasping. His face was set as he put to once again, and this time Jonathan had to fight the steering wheel as the truck increased speed and started to skid in the mud. The needle climbed rapidly: twenty, thirty, thirty five, and upwards to forty where it stayed. The truck careened up the hill out of the flood waters deadly grasp, burst through the fence separating the Potter and Kent land, and stopped.   
  
Jonathan turned the key. It sputtered once, died, sputtered again, and died again. On the third try the engine caught, coughed, and settled into a steady rumbling as the rain continued to beat down on the roof. He spared a glance behind him again, but Clark was not there. A flash of lightening brightened the landscape and Jonathan saw with some horror, the flood waters pouring over their porch roof. He closed his eyes with a groan.   
  
The passenger side door creaked open, and Clark squeezed in beside the suitcases and Martha's box. He was soaked again, muddy, and breathing heavily, but he managed a weak smile as they continued towards Nell's house, reassuring Jonathan that he was no worse for wear. He too had seen what lay behind them, but said nothing about it.   
  
There was nothing to say.  
  
*********************  
  
The windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm as Lex's Land Rover sped towards Smallville. The rain was unrelenting and he had already warned Martha even the Land Rover would be hard pressed to get through once they got into the worst of the flooded areas. The ultimate all terrain vehicle, Lex said, would be a Humvee, and then he had grinned.   
  
"I couldn't find one."   
  
"I'm surprised you don't already have one."  
  
"I put it on my list to Santa."  
  
He was currently on the phone to his butler. The lower levels of the mansion were flooded and the staff had retreated to the fertilizer plant where they were camping out with a number of other Smallville residents who'd gone to the higher ground to escape flood waters. Jonathan and Clark Kent were not among them, but word had it they were staying with the Ross family.   
  
"Thank God." Martha breathed, as Lex reported this to her.   
  
She listened as he was transferred to Gabe Sullivan. LuthorCorp, Lex told Gabe, would do all it could to assist the Red Cross in the relief efforts, including using the plant as a safe haven for as long as it was needed. Gabe had Lex's permission to do all he could to help the refugees in any way possible. From what Martha could make out, Gabe was more than willing to do so but something he said to Lex as the conversation ended, must have been serious. Lex hung up with a frown on his face.  
  
Martha held her breath, waiting for him to tell her.  
  
"Gabe says its bad." he said. "There are many people missing. Several have died, and the health department is warning about cholera from all the dead animals." He glanced at her quickly, but dared not take his eyes off the road for long. "Jonathan and Clark barely got out. The levy on the south side of town burst. Gabe heard from Bill Ross they showed up with hardly more than the clothes on their backs."  
  
"But they're safe?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She sighed. "That's all that counts." She looked out through the windshield, not wanting him to see her cry. Her house was gone, but her family, thank God, was safe.  
  
A phone rang, making them both jump.  
  
It was Martha's. She fumbled for it in her purse, and was a bit breathless when she answered it.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
The voice on the other end was as welcomed as the sun would be had it suddenly appeared.   
  
"Mom?"   
  
*************************  
  
It rained.  
  
"She should have stayed in Metropolis." Jonathan growled as he and Clark picked their way down one of the back roads leading into town. "Its too dangerous here."  
  
"They won't be able to get close." Clark shrugged. "The National Guard won't let anyone anywhere near here."   
  
"You're underestimating Lex Luthor again."   
  
"I think you're giving him too much credit. He can't buy off the National Guard dad." Clark cocked his head at his father and gave him a wry smile. "And he wouldn't put mom in any danger anyway."  
  
Jonathan didn't reply.   
  
He and Clark had joined with several others to patrol the roads surrounding the flooded areas looking for anyone who might be stranded. Help was needed for search and rescue all over town, and Jonathan felt the need to be busy, so he did not think about what he had lost and how he was to rebuild it. They heard from Bill that the Hendersons, who lived just up the road from the Kents, had not made it out the night of the flash flood and were now missing. That came as a blow to Jonathan, who had known the old farmer and his wife since he was a young boy. Jonathan immediately volunteered to help and he quarreled with Clark, again, insisting he stay with Pete and volunteer at the community center where the Red Cross had set up a station.   
  
"Clark look in the mirror!" He'd argued, and had even been backed up by Pete who could not recall Clark ever looking quite so haggard.   
  
Clark, however, had his back up, and getting him to relent had about the same odds as beating him in arm wrestling. His logic, once Pete was out of earshot, had been convincing as well.  
  
"I'm not going to twiddle my thumbs down there passing out blankets when there are people out there dying! What is the point of having special "gifts" if I don't use them? I'm not having someone's life and the fact I could have saved it, hanging over my head for the rest of my days just because you think I look tired! I feel fine!"  
  
Jonathan could find no argument, for although he did not want to risk his own son, the needs of the community were great, and how could he justify holding Clark back when lives were at stake? In the end Pete had gone with Chloe to the community center and Clark went with Jonathan.   
  
There were two main arteries of flooding, one that swept up from the south into town, and another coming in from the west over the lower lying farmlands. Between the two fronts was a tract of wooded land and some farms on a bit higher ground, and people living in this "island" had been almost completely cut off. The danger was Crater Lake, into which the western most flood waters now flowed. If the Crater Lake dam gave way on the northeastern side both arteries would connect and yet another devastating flash flood would occur. Since the rain continued to pour down, there was little hope of preventing it from happening and the best anyone could do would be to get the stranded people to safety as quickly as possible.   
  
The only possible way out was down a side road and across Route 4, then several miles northeast to the highway bridge in order to get around the flooding on the west side of town. Jonathan and Clark were headed in towards Route 4 from the west to see if they could lend a hand helping people get across. It wasn't easy going, for the road they traveled was unpaved, and the rain had turned it into a slippery mess. The truck slid back and forth as Jonathan negotiated the worst of the puddles and ruts which could bog them down and its tires spun just as if it traveled through several inches of snow and ice. He wasn't so worried about getting stuck - Clark could easily get them unstuck - as he was about the delay it would mean. They had learned from experience every minute counted.   
  
In this case he was correct. As they approached Route 4 they could see the flashing lights of a police cruiser and several other trucks parked along what at first glance appeared to be another tributary of the river. Deep muddy water rolled and tumbled in front of the barricade and splashed at the feet of the men gathered there beside it. It rushed by at the speed of a locomotive, and roared ominously through the sound of the pouring rain.  
  
It was Route 4. Crater Lake had escaped its bonds.   
  
"Someone is stranded!" Jonathan exclaimed.  
  
Clark was already out of the truck and running towards the scene. His boots slipped in the mud, throwing him to one knee, but he was quickly up again with Jonathan right behind him. They joined Bob Younger, Smallville's Deputy Sheriff, and a group of football players from the High School. In front of the group stood Whitney Fordman, a rope in his hand, trying desperately to toss a line out across the madly rushing water.   
  
There, standing on the top of what looked like an SUV, was a young girl. She was sobbing, frightened, and frantic as she watched the water rising around her. Clutched to her side was a small child, a little boy, and he stared at Whitney with eyes wide with terror. He watched as the rope arced out across the water, only to fall short and be swept downstream, and shuddered as Whitney hastily reeled it back in for another try. Whitney himself was very pale, and very frightened. He looked up as Clark joined him.   
  
"Its Missy Howard," he said. "And her little brother Leo. The water came up just as they were crossing. She thought she could make it." His hair was plastered flat from the pouring rain, and rivulets of water ran down his face. "The water rose too fast!"  
  
"We've got a helicopter on its way...." Bob's expression was pained as he let his words trail away. He shot a look at Jonathan.  
  
"There won't be time!" Jonathan shouted. "What else is there?"  
  
"We've been trying to throw out a line...."  
  
From the top of the car Missy suddenly screamed. She nearly fell as the car moved beneath her. Its front end shifted, but it stopped, and did not tip over. Her sobbing increased and her cries for help were heartbreaking.  
  
"That will never work." Clark stripped off his jacket. "Somebody has to go."   
  
"Clark are you insane?" Whitney jerked back as Clark reached for the rope. "The current is too strong! Don't be an idiot!"  
  
"Clark no." Jonathan grabbed his elbow. "You can't...."  
  
For the first time in twelve years Clark Kent lost his temper - something which took his father completely by surprise. Jonathan had seen him frustrated, and he'd seen him angry, but the look Clark turned upon him now and the tone of his voice was nothing short of infuriated rage. It not only startled Jonathan, but actually made both Bob and Whitney take a step backwards.   
  
"I am not going to stand here and watch those people die. Help me, or get out of my way."  
  
Blue eyes locked with grey. The battle of wills was short lived, and Jonathan looked away. He had no other choice.  
  
Clark took the end of the rope from Whitney and tied it securely around his waist, at the same time looking around him. Whitney's truck sat nearby and he nodded at it. "Stand on the top, and hold this end secure. I'll do the same on the other end and they can go hand over hand."  
  
Two of the football players scrambled up to do just that as Whitney confronted Clark one more time.   
  
"If you make it. You're going to drown Kent."   
  
Clark tipped his head at him and smiled grimly. "Oh ye of little faith Fordman."   
  
"Jonathan I can't let him do this!" Bob started forward as Clark plunged into the water, but Jonathan held out an arm to stop him.   
  
"Its all right Bob, let him go."  
  
They watched with bated breath.  
  
The brown water broke against Clark's body as he waded through it, splashing up around him as if he were as solid as a boulder. His progress was slow and deliberate. He placed each foot carefully, bracing himself firmly on the pavement hidden below the swirling water so he was sure not to slip. If he fell, the current would catch him, and again though Jonathan felt confident he could recover, the time wasted would do Missy no good. Behind Clark the rope stretched out like an umbilical tying him to the dry land; let out slowly by Whitney who kept a close eye on the proceedings. Bob joined the football players atop Whitney's truck. They held the other end of the long rope.   
  
Clark reached the SUV. The water was nearly to his shoulders, but he held steady, even as a wave splashed up over his head. He shook back his hair, and climbed upon the hood, then to the roof, of the rapidly submerging vehicle. Missy threw her arms around him and cried, but he gently pried her away. They could not hear what he said as he untied the rope from around his waist, but she nodded, and bent to speak to her brother. Clark then turned his head to Whitney and made a gesture with one hand.  
  
Whitney turned to the others. "Take up the slack."  
  
As if about to engage in a game of tug of war, Bob and the boys atop the truck pulled in the slack of the rope. Clark braced his feet against the top of the SUV with the other end, pulling it taut. The rope rose above the writhing flood waters to a height of about four feet, more than enough for Missy and her brother to cross without getting wet. First Leo swung out, his hands tight upon the rope and his knees wrapped around it, forcing Clark to pull the rope up as the boys weight made it sag a bit. Missy followed, and again Clark and the others took in the slack caused by her weight. They held tight as, hand over hand, the two made their way across the line. Leo was pale and frightened, but Missy encouraged him, and their progress was steady.   
  
Jonathan watched their progress with the tension gradually ebbing from his shoulders the closer they came to shore. As they drew within a few yards of their rescuers he began to breathe easier.   
  
"Thank God," he said softly, and glanced at his son.  
  
What he saw caused his breath to catch in his throat.   
  
With their attention drawn to the kids crossing the tight-rope, no one had been paying attention to what occurred out in the flood waters. As Jonathan turned to look back out, he saw what no one had noticed: a large piece of what looked like a downed tree, twisting and turning in the waves as the speeding waters carried it downstream. It was coming straight for the SUV at a very rapid pace, its branches stretched out like evil grasping fingers towards the lone figure standing before it.   
  
"Clark!"   
  
Clark heard, somehow, saw Jonathan's mad gesture, and in that split second of time, Jonathan saw him weigh his options. There weren't any. He had only enough time to shift his expression into one of surprise before the tree barrelled into the truck.   
  
Everything happened nearly simultaneously. The tree struck the SUV hard and the sound of screaming metal and snapping wood rose up to be heard even over the roaring water, while one outstretched branch struck Clark hard in the chest. The rope he held was jerked out of his hands as he spiraled backwards into the water, and Missy screamed when she and Leo were plunged down into the swirling current. Both Whitney and Jonathan raised their voices, screaming above the din: "Hold on!" While beyond the struggling figures of the Howard children, they saw Clark's head raise above the water for the briefest second. It was only a second, for almost immediately the SUV tipped, and both it and the tree rolled over him, dragging him down as a surge of water buried all three. They saw the tires break the top of the waves, a brief flash of the tangled limbs of the tree, then everything was gone in an instant.   
  
"Pull them in!"   
  
Whitney lunged into the water, one hand on the rope the others sought desperately to drag up onto land. Jonathan, paralyzed with horror, could do nothing but stare into the still rising water. He did not see Whitney drag Missy and her little brother up out of danger.   
  
There was no sign of Clark.  
  
*******************  
  
Chloe heard the doors swing open and looked up to see three water logged figures staggering into the makeshift rescue center in the company of Deputy Younger. She recognized the smaller of the two, and was right behind the nurse who rushed to help them.   
  
"Missy!" she wrapped a second blanket around the girl's shoulders as the nurse guided the bundled up form of Leo Howard towards a nearby cot. Missy joined him. They were shaking with the cold, and Missy was crying. The nurse called for another woman to help her, and Chloe looked back to the third figure standing with the deputy.  
  
Whitney's teeth were chattering. The water had been cold, fed by the deeper colder water of Crater Lake and the spring thaw, not to mention the chill of the fickle spring weather. Pete appeared with a cup of hot coffee, which Whitney accepted gratefully. He took several sips before he could speak.   
  
"They got caught crossing Route 4. Crater Lake dam went."   
  
Chloe raised a hand to her mouth as she glanced quickly at Pete. She had been working in the rescue center from the day it had been set up, and saw a steady stream of refugees stagger in through the double doors of the recreation center gym. All of them came in shell shocked and shivering, not quite comprehending what had happened to their homes, their loved ones, and their livelihoods. Things were lost so quickly in the surging waters, no one had any time to fully understand it all. Every day there came new horror stories, and every day the flood waters spread further and further over Lowell county, drowning everything. Chloe still had her home and her loved ones, but she was as stunned as anyone else by the ferocity of mother nature unleashed. The flood waters had drowned even her glib optimism. She was unusually subdued.  
  
"Are you okay?" Normally Whitney was the least of her worries, but tragedy made for strange bedfellows.   
  
He nodded. "I'll be okay once I get dry. I've got to get back out there." Something shifted in his eyes, and he glanced down into his coffee cup, not meeting Chloe's gaze. "Chloe," he said quietly. "I know I'm probably not the best person to be telling you this. God knows we've had our differences but - you know I'd never wish anything bad to happen to Clark...."  
  
Pete had his hand on Chloe's shoulder, and at Whitney's words she felt his fingers tighten.   
  
"What happened?" he demanded.  
  
Whitney took a deep, wavering, breath. "He was out in the middle of it, helping to get Missy and the kid to safety...." he stopped. He didn't have to say anything else, because they could see it in his eyes when he raised them.   
  
"He's gone?"   
  
Both boys looked at Chloe, who stood very still, and very pale. The color had drained out of her face as she fought against the information Whitney was trying to impart. She had known. Somehow she had known from the minute they entered, that something had happened to Clark; and as Whitney's words confirmed her uneasy feeling, she found herself growing weaker. Her strength drained slowly from her body, as her mind became distant from it. Staccato flashes of Clark's smile, his grey eyes, his strong hands, flickered across her vision like the jerky images of an old silent film. For a moment the world grayed out, and all she could see were those images, over and over again. "He's gone, he's gone, he's gone...." became a mantra repeating with every beat of her heart.   
  
Here now, it was her turn, and she found herself understanding how all those who'd come before felt. Now she felt the sting of loss, and the agony of despair. It left her world turned upside down and her very existence circumspect. She could not cry. She could not even speak. For once in her life Chloe Sullivan's words left her - utterly. She who filled her life with words and who saw her future in them, had none; and bereft of the very thing that had always supported her, she collapsed. She dropped to the floor without a sound, and let darkness swallow everything.   
  
***********************  
  
Jonathan sat at the Ross' kitchen table with a cup of cold coffee sitting before him. He'd been running on nothing but caffeine for nearly forty eight hours, and suddenly found himself unable to swallow another drop. For two days he and dozens of others had combed miles upon miles of flood water for any sign of Clark, and for two days he had held onto the hope that Clark's abilities would once again protect him from harm as they had so many times in the past. Two days, and they'd found nothing, not even the battered remains of the Howards' SUV. Clark could hold his breath for a long time, but tossed and battered in the current, how could he hold onto that breath and fight off everything else before he was forced to let the water fill his lungs?   
  
Jonathan knew, if a man had lungs, a man could drown, and it would make no difference if he were stronger or faster - he would die.   
  
He raised his hands to his face, trying to steady his shaking fingers as he rubbed at eyes grainy with sleeplessness and bloodshot from tears. Irony of ironies the rain stopped not two hours after Clark had been swept away, and the bright sun shown down on the searchers as they combed the wreckage that had once been Smallville for any trace of those who were missing. It was not just Clark, but a half dozen others, who had been unable to escape the raging waters. Several bodies were recovered, but at least three people, including Clark, were still missing and presumed dead. Dozens of survivors waited to be rescued, and helicopters buzzed the air searching for anyone who might be stranded. Reports would come in from the pilots, and every time someone was found alive, Jonathan's heart raced, but hope died when the word came and the survivor was not Clark.   
  
He sighed, but it came out as half a sob.   
  
There was a soft sound from the other room - the sound of the front door opening. He heard Bill's low baritone, but could not make out the words and did not want to hear them anyway. He was afraid of hearing them. He knew what they would be: "We found him. I'm sorry...."  
  
I'm sorry. Your son is dead.   
  
Sorry - a small word that could not possibly make up for the loss of a man's only child.  
  
"Jonathan?"  
  
He turned, and saw her standing behind him. His other fear, his greatest fear, had come to pass in the form of her slender figure framed by the door way.   
  
Her eyes searched his face. "What has happened? Where is Clark."   
  
Jonathan's mouth opened, but nothing would come out. Two days of calling, screaming, hoping for an answer, had left him hoarse.   
  
"Where is Clark?"   
  
"Martha...."   
  
He did not need to say any more than that. The word hung, graven, upon the air between them, and he could see the realization seeping into her face. She put out a hand - bracing herself upon the wall.   
  
"No."   
  
"I tried...."  
  
"No!"   
  
The chair fell over as he went to her, and caught her in his arms.   
  
*********************  
  
Lana distracted herself from her worries with the sure strokes of the brush in her hands. It still rained in Metropolis, but within the strong walls of the stable it was warm and dry and the air was filled with the sweet smell of hay. Down the aisle, the long faces of a dozen horses peered from within their stalls, anticipating the evening meal. Lana's two paints touched noses, as if whispering to each other, and she was forced to smile.   
  
"Jealous." she said quietly, and gave the one she groomed a pat.   
  
She doubted poor Decca ever got so much attention at home, and told him so as her brush brought up the shine in his dark coat. She'd seen a picture of him once, back in the days when he was Dodecahedron, pride of the Metropolis hunter-jumper circuit. One of Lana's trainers remembered him well, and spoke of him fondly: "That horse could jump anything." she'd told her. "And tried to murder just about anyone but Martha."  
  
Hard to believe. Lana smiled again as she smoothed the geldings mane. He stood in the cross ties half asleep, his lower lip hanging, and his eyes half closed beneath the hollows above them. She traced the flecks of grey upon his face, and ran her brush over the dip in his back. He couldn't jump a mud puddle these days.   
  
That thought brought back Lana's worries in a rush. She hated being here. For once in her life Lana had no desire to be in Metropolis, but wanted to be back home with her friends, supporting them in these dark days. She and Nell knew what was happening; both from news reports and telephone calls to people at home. Their barn was underwater, and Lana knew if the flooding had reached that far, most of the town had been destroyed.  
  
"Including your home." she whispered.  
  
Decca flickered an ear in her direction, but continued to doze.  
  
"Not that you care you old coot."   
  
From the end of the aisle there was a creaking sound, and Nell slipped in through the door to be greeted by a chorus of low rumbling whickers. Decca raised his head and pricked his ears, keeping one eye upon her as she approached him. She neatly avoided his quick nip, and went to Lana's side.   
  
"He's looking nice now isn't he?" Lana said, giving the gelding a pat on the shoulder. "All except the temper. I doubt Clark will recognize him when he sees him again." She looked at Nell, her smile broad.   
  
That smile faded at the sight of her aunt's face, and Lana's fingers wound around a lock of Decca's black mane. Something was wrong at home. Nell would not be here, with that expression upon her face, if it were anything else. "What? Oh Nell, what?" she whispered. "Whitney..."  
  
"I just spoke with him." Her words were pitched to reassure, but her sorrowful expression did not waver. "He's fine."   
  
"But..." Lana's brows came together. "There's something wrong." She held her breath, waiting for the answer. "What is it?"  
  
It struck her like a blow when it came.  
  
"Honey, Clark has been killed in the flooding." Nell said softly. "Whitney thought you would want to know."  
  
A loud roaring filled Lana's ears, and for the longest time she could neither hear nor speak. Her fist tightened around Decca's mane, and the coarse horsehair bit deep into her fingers, drawing her out of her shock.   
  
"How could that be?" she whispered.   
  
"He was drowned, helping Whitney rescue someone caught in a flash flood. Lana I am sorry. I am so sorry. I know you were friends."  
  
I wanted more. Lana thought.   
  
She looked away, and she resumed her brushing in silence.   
  
"Lana?"  
  
"I'm all right." Lana said softly. "I just - need to think."   
  
Nell stood at her side, watching her, for a moment longer. Finally she gave a slight nod, and left her niece to herself. She understood.   
  
When Nell had gone, Lana stopped brushing. She could no longer see what she was doing for the tears that rose in her eyes, and although she held them back as long as she could, eventually they broke free. The grief was too much for her. She dropped the brush with a clatter as she realized someone she had known since the age of three, someone with whom she'd only recently come to treasure as a friend, had suddenly been erased from existence. He was gone. She would never see him again, and she had not even said goodbye.  
  
With a choking cry, Lana buried her face into Decca's warm coat and wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing bitterly as her heart broke into shattered pieces.   
  
******************  
  
Lex Luthor did not handle death well, and as flood waters receded and the citizens of Smallville gathered to pay their respects to those they had lost; he retreated from it. He turned tail, and he ran away. The town was in a shambles, and so were the people he'd come to know in his short time of residency. That disturbed him. He did not want to care about this place of exile, this burden his father had foisted off onto his shoulders, but he did. He cared much more than he wanted to admit, and likewise the death of someone he'd come to call friend, was distressing him much more than he could handle.   
  
So Lex did what he always did when he felt the need to get away: he got into a car, and he drove in some random direction at a very high rate of speed.   
  
It took him a while to get to that point. All over the county roads and bridges were washed out, closed, or still under water and Lex found himself weaving around detour after detour before finding the open road. When he did find unobstructed highway, he was far from home and in a foul temper from all the switchbacks. He was driving the Mercedes, a heavy workhorse of a car with a lot of power under its hood, and when he finally skidded off a dirt road and onto the paved surface of the highway, he let it have its head. With a roar of its big engine, the Merc accelerated, and soon Lex was cruising along at well over eighty miles per hour. The radio blasted some song he barely heard as he retreated into his thoughts.   
  
Normally Lex Luthor paid little attention to hitchhikers, or anything along the side of the road for that matter. His normal operating procedure was to zip past them without a second glance. He did spare a second glance this time, perhaps because the accident that had brought him together with Clark was on his mind. He caught the sight of a tall dark haired man out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head as the Mercedes sped by the stumbling figure....  
  
"Clark?"  
  
Tires screamed on the pavement as Lex slammed his foot down on the brake. The Mercedes skidded down the road in a cloud of smoking rubber before coming to a stop at the end of two long black skid marks, and whipping around to face the opposite direction. Lex was back down the road and out of the car before another minute elapsed, with his hands on the shoulders of the "hitchhiker" stopping his progress. Their eyes met - more or less.  
  
"Oh God!"  
  
Blearily, as if focusing were an effort, Clark looked at Lex and swayed unsteadily on his feet - his bare feet. He was shoeless and filthy, and sported a livid bruise across one cheekbone, but otherwise seemed uninjured except for the rather vague look in his eyes. His jeans were torn out at both knees, his t-shirt ripped nearly in half diagonally down the front, and he was caked with drying mud from his matted hair to those bare feet.   
  
"You..." At a loss for words, Lex shook his head. "I have to get you to a hospital."  
  
The grey eyes snapped into a somewhat more focused stare, and Lex saw a definite hint of fear in them. "No! No hospital. I want to go home. No hospitals...."  
  
"Clark you're obviously ....."  
  
With a quick lurch, Clark broke away from him, and continued to make his slow way down the berm as if he were some sort of youthful drunken hobo. Lex caught up with him easily and stopped his progress again.   
  
"All right. All right. I'll take you home, I promise. Just get in the car."   
  
Clark looked at him, his eyes once again unfocused, and his brows came together over his nose. His voice was a drunken slur. "Do I know you?" he whispered, and after a pause his eyes did a slow rollback until all Lex could see were the whites.   
  
"Oh no, don't...."   
  
Clark's knees buckled, and he went down hard; lying along the side of the highway like roadkill.  
  
******************  
  
It was an informal ceremony, held in the auditorium of the community center, which also doubled as the refugee center. For the day, however, the cots and personal belongings of the refugees had been pushed aside so chairs could be set up facing the podium at the front of the room. The room was crowded with townspeople - those who had not lost everything, and those who had, all coming together to pay their respects and ease their sorrows. Fourteen people had been lost in the flooding, and of those fourteen three were still missing: the elderly Hendersons, and Clark Kent. The bodies of the others were found as the waters began to recede, and those would be given proper ceremonies at a later time. Ella and Orin Henderson's children, and Martha and Jonathan Kent, did not even have that small comfort. They had nothing to bury.   
  
Martha sat at the back of the room with her hands in her lap and her head bowed. She had no tears left in her. All her grief had been rung out of her in those first few days after learning Clark was gone, and she had nothing left to give to his memory. His miraculous gifts were, in the end, not enough to save him. This world, this planet, to which he did not belong, had conspired to kill him. No man made danger could do it, but the forces of nature unleashed upon him had taken his life as surely as if a normal man were shot through the heart. Bereft and alone, Martha could only stare down at the pale hands before her, and try to understand why it had happened.   
  
"Martha."   
  
She started at the sound of the soft whisper beside her. It was not Jonathan's voice, for he stood at the front of the room with Bill Ross, and for the briefest moment she thought it might be....  
  
Her eyes, as she turned, came level with those of Lex Luthor, who crouched low beside her chair. "Lex..." she said quietly.   
  
"Come with me." he took her hand, his fingers warm upon her cold flesh.   
  
"I can't..."  
  
His eyes were fierce. "Yes, you can. Trust me."   
  
She allowed him to pull her to her feet, and she followed him out to the parking lot without protest. She was too numb to protest, and to weary to fight him. She could fight nothing. She had no reason to do so.   
  
Her life was over.   
  
Abruptly she stopped, and Lex turned to look at her with a puzzled expression.   
  
Martha found her tears again. "I can't. I can't go on without him."   
  
Lex was back at her side, grasping her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "No," he said, and his hands were gentle as he brushed back her hair. "Martha its all right. He's alive."   
  
She stared at him, searching his eyes, seeking confirmation of the words.  
  
He nodded, his face breaking into a smile wider than his normal wont. "This morning, I found him walking down the road two counties east of here."   
  
Martha's heart was loud in her ears as she continued to stare at him as if he spoke a foreign language. "Clark?" she whispered.  
  
"He's in the car."  
  
With a cry, Martha broke loose of Lex's grip and together they hurried into the parking lot where the Mercedes sat parked along the curb. Leaning on the sleek black hood, his hands in the pockets of his washed but still tattered jeans, was an all too familiar figure.  
  
"Clark!"   
  
He caught her in his embrace, and she buried her face in his chest, holding on to him as tightly as she possibly could lest he somehow dissolve away from her. She was crying once more, but her tears held no grief, only unadulterated joy and her voice rose in muffled laughter as he smoothed her hair with one hand. His kiss was gentle upon her temple.   
  
"Its okay mom. I'm okay."   
  
She drew back then to look at him. His shirt was too small, his feet were still bare, and the bruise along his cheek was a faded yellow color, nearly gone. Her fingers brushed against it. "Your face..."  
  
"Something hit me. I don't know what. I don't remember a lot after I went into the water."  
  
"I had a friend look at him. He's exhausted, and may have a mild concussion." Lex said quietly. "He needs to take it easy for while."  
  
Martha shot her son an alarmed look, but he shook his head to the negative. No doctor then had seen him; they were safe. She smiled and hugged him again, and then, without hesitation, she turned and threw her arms around Lex.   
  
"For bringing us both home." she said softly, as she withdrew, gazing into his rather startled expression. "My knight in shining Land Rover. Thank you."   
  
He smiled, graced her with a kiss, and a squeeze of her hand. "Its the least I could do."  
  
****************  
  
Clark leaned on the handle of the snow shovel he was using to clean the thick mud off the front porch of the Kent's house. Inside he could hear his mother moan as she sorted through their belongings looking for anything salvageable and the sounds of his father dragging the sodden furniture out the back door. Chloe, a push broom in one hand and a streak of mud across her forehead, paused after she pushed a mysterious glob of goo over the edge of the porch and into the remains of Martha's boxwood hedge. She looked at Clark and grinned. She did that a lot, as if reassuring herself he were actually there and not some figment of her imagination.   
  
"Dollar for your thoughts." she said.   
  
"What happened to the penny?"   
  
"Inflation."   
  
He nodded at the debris cluttered yard, the mud clotted paddocks with their broken fencing, and Martha's car which lay upside down in what had once been her vegetable garden. Chloe followed his gaze, and one side of her mouth quirked into a grimace.   
  
"Its a mess," he murmured. "We're going to have to start all over again."  
  
"Its like this all over the county." Chloe replied quietly. "But it could be worse. The water has gone down, the sun is shining and you aren't feeding the fishes." Her blue eyes twinkled as she grinned at him - again.   
  
"If your grin gets any bigger Chloe its going to crack your head in two."   
  
The grin faded. "Uh, unpleasant visual just shot through my brain, thanks Clark."   
  
Their eyes met.   
  
"Don't ever do that to me again." she said quietly. "No more heroics for a while, okay? Promise?"  
  
"Promise." he replied, and made a gesture across his chest. "Cross my heart."  
  
"But not hope to die?"  
  
"No. Not that."  
  
He looked back across the farmyard, and up towards Lana's house. She and Nell arrived home earlier that morning, and despite the mess, she had run down the lane to throw herself at Clark in tears. Her words had been very similar to Chloe's:   
  
"Don't ever leave me."  
  
"You underestimate how much they care about you Clark." Lex had commented the day before, as the two of them drove through the wreckage of downtown. "Your friends, your family, and your community; they all grieved for you. You're more popular than you think. You're a genuinely good person, and that's rare in the world today. Don't ever lose that quality."  
  
Clark's heart ached at the sight of the damage the flood had wrought on the town. So many lives lost, so many lives forever altered, despite his own best efforts. It would take a different sort of strength now to put it all back together.   
  
"I didn't know I had it." he'd responded.  
  
Lex had shaken his head soberly. "And that modesty is part of your appeal."   
  
Sighing, Clark turned his attention back to the task at hand. He'd been ordered to rest, and he'd been resting, but he now felt back up to speed and ready to get busy. His home, and his town, needed him more than ever to help with the massive cleanup. He admitted, now, that perhaps he had worn himself just a bit too thin and resolved to pay more attention to himself the next time he faced a similar crisis. He hoped it would not be any time soon.   
  
He heaved a shovel full of mud off the porch, stopped, and turned to Chloe.   
  
"Did you really faint at Whitney Fordman's feet?"   
  
She shot him a stony glare. "Clark Kent, if you ever mention that again I will make you wish you had drowned."   
  
He grinned. "You've got mud in your hair."   
  
After a moment, so did he. 


End file.
